The author is a Forbes contributor. The opinions expressed are those of the writer.

Loading ...

Loading ...

This story appears in the {{article.article.magazine.pretty_date}} issue of {{article.article.magazine.pubName}}. Subscribe

A non-functioning prototype of the Memoto device, which can be clipped onto clothing or worn as a necklace. Working models are due to be shipped out in early April.

Tucked away in Stockholm's snow-covered Old Town, about half a dozen engineers with tech startup Memoto are making the final tweaks to the world's smallest, wearable camera.

Oskar Kalmaru, the firm's co-founder and marketing director, meets me outside in the frozen slush and invites me into the company's apartment-style office. He offers a round, Swedish sponge cake to mark the last day before the country's pseudo-secular celebration of Lent.

Kalmaru and his co-founders have built a device that could change the way people reflect and remember things. From the moment it is turned right-side up and uncovered, Memoto's camera takes a constant stream of 5-megapixel shots, every two seconds. It costs $280 plus a monthly subscription fee for server space.

By the end of each day, it will take 2,000 photos on average, and automatically upload them to Memoto's Amazon-hosted servers when it is charged via USB. Once the photos have been uploaded, they can be viewed through a mobile app. Till then, the camera itself has 8 GB of memory, which is about two-days worth of photos; its battery also lasts two days.

This whole idea might seem outrageous to privacy advocates and slightly creepy to everyone else, but the device has struck a chord. Last November Memoto raised more than $550,000 in a Kickstarter funding round that was 10 times over subscribed. Now its founders are racing to get its device ready to ship, having delayed shipping by more than a month to early April, from late February.

The reason: a supplier wrongly placed a chip in the device. Now that it's being reset, Kalmaru and other managers are testing the first "handful" of cameras. They are expecting another 20 from Taiwanese manufacturer Yomura next week, then another 100 in a few weeks for additional testing. Then comes the final batch of thousands to send around the world.

So how goes the initial testing? Kalmaru, who was the third person to come on board the company, says he is surprised at how easily he has become accustomed to wearing it throughout the day. Other people he meets also get used to it quickly, he claims. In a meeting, someone might ask what the camera is, "and after a few minutes it's all forgotten."

Memoto represents a development in how we document the world around us, a trend known as lifelogging. A few others companies like MeCam and (to some extent) GoPro, are capitalizing on it. More broadly, they are part of a series of new companies like the mobile app Snapchat, who are redefining the very role of photographs. Instead of capturing photos to flaunt to friends on , Memoto posits that its photos should serve a more private purpose -- one of reflection and self-analysis.

Looking back on a day's photos, which are automatically divided by the app into "moments" depending on light and composition, becomes an exercise in contemplation and could even be memory enhancing. The app displays each moment as a long film roll that users can scroll back and forth on, or watch as a time-lapse video.

Whether people would use this for work or pleasure differs from day to day. "I was out with friends for dinner last night and it was nice the morning after to relive the moment," Kalmaru says. He sees only a tiny fraction of Memoto photos making it onto social networks.

Marketing coordinator Joselyn Nussbaum recently made a thoughtful case for the device on Memoto's blog:

A few weeks ago, I had one of those Perfect Life Moments while walking on the beach with my family. We were spending a weekend away from home, engaging in the activities that typically revolve around eating, drinking, and being merry. I was so caught up in the sun, sand, and company that I completely forgot to pause and snap some photos – and was duly disappointed when I realized that my already-fading memories would serve as the sole testament to the fact that I was there and did those things. Even if I had bothered to capture a shot or two, I ran the risk of altering the mood of the environment. We’re all neurotic narcissists when the camera emerges, and this often turns a candid moment into a manufactured memory. I couldn’t help but think how convenient it would’ve been if some omnipotent (yet invisible) observer had been trailing me all weekend and documenting my experience."

Memoto says its device can capture moments that you can't predict will be important, such as meeting a future spouse, or the last days with a loved one before their death. There's also the lure of legacy. Kalmaru says he has a two-year old son who can now look back on a whole life (his own, or his father's) because it will be constantly recorded.

Memoto co-founder Oskar Kalmaru wearing the device on his shirt.

There are functional cases too. Kalmaru recently wore one of the cameras in a grocery store, and after failing to find a product he was looking for inside, saw it sitting on the shelf while looking through the photos later that night.

These sorts of field tests are crucial to finally put some real-world feedback into a device who's theoretical, life-changing potential can get a little ahead of itself.